


The Cracking Scab

by paynesgrey



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-25
Updated: 2007-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 15:18:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paynesgrey/pseuds/paynesgrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sylar has Mohinder's list, and Mohinder hunts him down to get it back, stumbling upon another tragic scene with an astonishing development.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cracking Scab

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Niki Challenge at [](http://mylar-fic.livejournal.com/profile)[**mylar_fic**](http://mylar-fic.livejournal.com/). Thank you to [](http://sesemperamabo.livejournal.com/profile)[**sesemperamabo**](http://sesemperamabo.livejournal.com/) for the beta look over!

_He’s probably somewhere in Las Vegas,_ Mohinder mused to himself. He glanced to his left, his eye catching the sparse desert vegetation as he drove down the interstate.

It had become an obsession. Weeks after the list was stolen and Mohinder barely recovered from Sylar’s grasp, he’d delivered a grim message to Peter’s mother and then set off on his journey.

 _I won’t let him get away with it,_ Mohinder thought to himself again. He bit his lip, his teeth grinding over and under the flesh, tasting his own blood.

And then he began to track his movements, following the trail of death in Sylar’s path. Thankfully, his memory of the list was sharp, and he suspected where Sylar was going. Judging by his straight path across the states, he was sure he was going to go to the Sanders’ house next.

After all, there were at least three people in the household who were on that list.

Mohinder immediately felt an ache in his gut when he thought of the entire family being targeted, but it couldn’t be helped. His remorse for Sylar’s victims remained constant, but he no longer had the energy to cry for them. His energy was focused elsewhere.

His only hope to rectify his carelessness was to save them and stop Sylar.

No matter what.

\--

The door on the Sanders’ house had already been jarred open. Mohinder let out a meek “hello” before cautiously coming inside. He became nervous when he realized their house was now a crime scene, and it would just be his luck to be mistaken for the criminal.

He stepped slowly into the living room, surveying the damage of the house. A powerful struggle had obviously taken place. Mirrors, household art, and appliances had been flung around in fragments. Blood had been splattered on the walls and floor.

Mohinder stopped in his tracks before jumping back and letting out a yelp of surprise. The kitchen floor was covered in a pool of blood, and a young woman’s head had been sliced at the top.

He was too late.

“I wondered when you’d get here.” A voice startled him out of the eerie moment.  
Mohinder clenched his jaw. The damn bastard sounded airy and cheerful. His eyes lit up when their gazes met, and his rival actually looked elated to see him.

“You… you despicable…” Mohinder couldn’t find the right words to say. What do you say to a killer you’ve been tracking after seeing the same tragic scene time and again?

Sylar chuckled at him. Mohinder glared at him, noticing that he continued to wear Zane’s clothes and waltz around another person’s house as if he owned the place. Had killing so many erased all forms of guilt or remorse? Mohinder wondered if he’d ever had such emotions in the first place.

He’d be quick to call him a monster, but Sylar was still a parasite – acting upon instincts in order to survive. The philosophy made Mohinder sick to his core.

Sylar circled him in the empty war-torn household like a predatory cat. He smirked at him, and Mohinder noticed the woman’s blood still staining his fingers. The blood was still fresh and wet, smeared over his large hands. Mohinder swallowed uncomfortably, wondering if eventually his blood would mix with hers.

“I know you’ve been following me, Suresh. I’ve known since I left Virginia,” Sylar spoke to him. He cocked his head and gave him a sympathetic smile. “Why do you have to be so predictable, Doc? You take all the fun out of the chase.”

“This is not a game,” Mohinder retorted. “I’m here for my list and to repent for the mistakes I've made.”

“You won’t last against me and you know it,” Sylar remarked stonily with fire brimming in his dark eyes. He looked to Mohinder’s waist, noticing the impression of the revolver under his coat. With a swift thought, the gun was hurled away from him. Mohinder’s expression turned cold, and Sylar could feel the fear rolling off him. “Coming here was a death wish, Suresh.”

“We’ll see about that,” Mohinder spat, and then quickly he reached behind himself and pulled out another gun, hastily firing at Sylar.

With ease, Sylar moved out of the way, smirking as the bullet only grazed his shoulder. He didn’t seem to mind the pain, and he stared hungrily at Mohinder, who quivered and then began firing shots at him madly.

Combining telekinesis and a new power of super strength, Sylar attacked Mohinder before he could even blink. His gun was out of his hands, and he was pinned against the wall, a tilted picture frame pressing into his back. He exhaled heavily, feeling the sting in his nerves from the impact.

Then, Sylar’s hands were around his throat, and he could feel the serial killer squeezing his windpipe. Wet blood from Sylar’s fingers smeared onto his flesh. He gasped, making a noise desperate for air. Sylar stared at him stealthily, smirking at the fact that Suresh was once again at his mercy despite his confidence.

“You just don’t listen, do you?” Sylar made a clucking sound with his tongue, and the grip around Mohinder’s throat tightened. Tears poked at the sides of Mohinder’s eyes, and excitement flashed in the killer’s expression. “Do you have some sick, twisted fantasy to die by my hands, hrmm? Because as I see it, there is no way a mere common person like you can match me.”

Mohinder made a choked noise in Sylar’s grasp, “P…please…”

Sylar chuckled darkly. He leaned closely to Mohinder’s face. “Please, what… Dr. Suresh?”

Generously, Sylar loosened his grip momentarily as Mohinder continued to glare at him, licking his lips and then replying, “Please…go to hell, you bastard!”

And with all the strength he could muster, Mohinder reached up and jabbed a hidden knife into Sylar’s shoulder. With wide eyes, Sylar backed away from him, his power jarring and Mohinder coming free from his grasp. Sylar looked at him with pure rage, clutching the bloody wound and pulling the knife from his own flesh. He strangled out a cry and gritted his teeth from the pain. He waved his hand in the air, and Mohinder was slammed against the wall again.

Mohinder smirked at him, enjoying that a powerful person bled like any human.

“I see you’re still human, Sylar…” Mohinder chuckled at him, and then he winced, feeling Sylar’s invisible force tugging at his entrails threateningly.

“You … you got lucky…” Sylar hacked out, staggering over to Mohinder. He pressed his hand over Mohinder’s chest. He felt the energy from the second power he earned, and he looked down ardently at the heart beating within the doctor’s chest.

“Are you going to rip my heart out with your telekinesis? Are you going to make it quick and predictable?” Mohinder chided sarcastically.

Sylar gave him a burning look. He, of course, ultimately held Suresh's life in his hands, and the man was still goading him, treating him like some kind of equal.

Mohinder Suresh was no equal. He was _common_ , just like his father had been.

Sylar pressed his hand against him harder, and leaned into Suresh’s body, feeling his heart, feeling his fear to die.

“Had you been here a little earlier,” Sylar quipped, his voice ringing with his same old snake-like confidence, “you might have saved not only the woman, but also her husband and child too…”

Mohinder’s mouth closed harshly, his stare cold and regretful. Sylar’s fingertips grazed over Mohinder’s chest, and he could feel Sylar enter his skin – it was a strange weaving sensation, as if his own molecules entwined with his. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain and trying to shut out the strange ecstasy he felt from such an otherworldly touch.

He gritted through his teeth, “You killed the entire family… you monster! They had a little boy…”

“Ah,” Sylar chimed and pointed a finger at him. He seemed continually pleased with himself. “The boy had such a useful gift too. It appears I can talk to any machine in the world… among other things. And phasing through solid objects? What a rush! Well, you’ve already seen what it can do…” Sylar leaned into him, his breath closer to Mohinder’s face. He laughed lightly, and thumbed through Mohinder’s chest again, tapping at the artery that connected his heart. Mohinder whimpered. “Doesn't that feel good, Doc?”

Mohinder turned to Sylar with a hardened gaze. He did not want this killer to know how he felt about him – how obsessed, how enraged he was at Sylar’s deeds that tip-toed the line of possession. Mohinder was a doctor – like his father – and his father had helped Sylar. Were he and his father responsible for unleashing this dark, twisted animal upon the changing world just for the sake of advancing their research?

Mohinder felt responsible – and at one time, he felt that Sylar might have deserved redemption.

But now, he knew that Sylar only deserved justice by death – and he was the only one that could do this. Through his father the parasite was born, and through him, the monster would die.

“You can’t keep doing this. What will you do once you’ve killed everyone? What’s left once they are all dead?” Mohinder asked him, biding his time. How long was Sylar going to dangle him on a hook before he killed him? He wondered if the maniac liked playing with him, knowing he was defenseless.

“I will be everything I’ve ever wanted to be,” Sylar responded. “I will be special.”

“You will be nothing,” Mohinder quickly replied. “A person who takes lives for the sake of their own gain is nothing more than a monster… not special at all. A creature of darkness.” Sylar laughed at him, and Mohinder bit his lip. “You will be stopped, maybe not by me…” A tragic image of Peter flashed in Mohinder’s mind, and he momentarily lost his sense of hope. “But you will be stopped.”

Sylar moved swiftly, wrapping his hands around Mohinder’s throat again. He squeezed and Mohinder cried. “Is this all that Karmic crap you believe in? Because if it were true, Suresh, then it would have gotten me by now.”

His laughter roared in Mohinder’s ears, and suddenly, he felt himself spinning out of Sylar’s hands and then colliding with his face and stomach against the wall. He tried to push himself away, but Sylar’s force was too immense. He was trapped, and the killer was toying with him.

“Just kill me already, you fool,” Mohinder seethed with his nose scraping against the hard wall.

“No, I think I’ll take my time…” Sylar cackled again, and Mohinder could feel the maniac’s hands on his pants. He froze, not enjoying the sensations Sylar’s touch made on his skin.

“What are you doing?” Mohinder breathed desperately. His pants were down over his knees, and he felt the chill of the room against his flesh. He shuddered.

Sylar bent down to his ear again, and Mohinder remembered this familiar dance between them. Sylar’s breath traced the shell of his ear, and then he said, “I’m going to show you just exactly how much your father liked me.” He paused with a quick chuckle, and Mohinder closed his eyes as unwanted memories of his father began to surface. Sylar caressed a finger over his naked ass, the fingertips going in and out of the surface once again. He replied finally, “I promise you, Suresh, this is going to hurt.”

\--

Mohinder was vulnerable, completely taken into Sylar’s grasp. The killer roamed his hands roughly over his exposed skin, tracing his bloodied fingers over his balls and between his thighs. And every time Mohinder shuddered, Sylar let out a delightful laugh.

And he tried to convince himself that Sylar was doing this against his will and that he would not allow himself to enjoy any of it.

Despite Mohinder’s objections to the maniac’s touch, his body betrayed him. Hell, his mind betrayed him, and he hated to admit that Sylar was right. There was some sick, twisted game between them. Sylar would hunt; he’d follow. Sylar would test him and tease him; Mohinder would take the bait, looking for those elusive answers. It was a sport to both of them – and he hated being caught up in this whirlwind obsession to _have_ him, to keep him all for himself as his perfect specimen. To find out how he ticked, just as much as Sylar did to his victims.

Sylar’s heat encompassed him, and Mohinder could feel his fingers dancing around his entrance. Mohinder inhaled harshly as Sylar began tugging at the coarse hairs surrounding it, smoothing it out and then tugging one or two quickly, causing Mohinder to grit his teeth in pain.

The more Sylar slowly tortured him, his touches teetering over the fine line of death and sex, the more conflicted Mohinder became. He was close – so close to collapsing into Sylar’s arms and letting the psycho take exactly what he wanted. If he wanted to kill him, fine, but Mohinder didn’t want him to touch him any longer.

The longer he touched him – the more he wanted to break, and to actually _feel_ something for this man. And he would not allow himself to do something so insane.

Mohinder felt one rough, husky finger poke inside, and he realized he had forgotten to breathe. His heartbeat began to resonate with Sylar’s breath, and as he played with him, Sylar’s body pressed closer against him. Time stilled, his thighs shuddered, and Sylar continued to prolong this aching dance.

“Take what you want already!” Mohinder lashed at him through the silent air, and Sylar huffed and then removed his fingers from below, resting them on Mohinder’s shoulder. He could smell his own musk, and he turned his head aside, still feeling the pull of Sylar’s power.

“Don’t you want to take this slow?” Sylar teased him bitingly. “Haven’t you ever heard of foreplay, Suresh?”

“You’re going to kill me, not treat me as some kind of lover. Have at your puerile games and be done with it.”

“Well, then,” Sylar responded with mock concession. “I was going to be unkind, and give it to you hard and raw…” His chuckle was dark, vibrating off of Mohinder’s ear. “But I’m feeling generous today…”

Mohinder screamed as Sylar traced a line over his forehead, the same line he initiated with all his victims. Instead of completely slicing his head off, Sylar only cut him deeply enough to draw blood. Mohinder felt his own blood trail down his head and into his eyes, and he whimpered, as the pain did not subside. Roughly, Sylar grabbed the top of his head and brought Mohinder back into his chest, wiping up the blood and smearing his fingers in it. His nose pressed roughly against Mohinder’s cheek and then he whispered, “I certainly couldn’t take you without the proper lubrication…”

Mohinder whined, feeling the madman’s power once again throw him against the wall, his own blood smearing on the surface. He heard clothes rustle behind him, and then a large metal belt was dropped to the floor. His blood ran cold, and then Sylar’s hands slammed onto the wall, caging him in. Mohinder could feel the man’s hardness press against his naked skin, and he licked his lips in half-fear, half-sick-anticipation.

He thought to himself, _Am I really going to allow myself to enjoy this?_ Sylar bent in and suckled on the shell of his ear, chuckling as Mohinder froze with his body against him.

Sylar whispered, “Your father used to like it this way too…”

Mohinder’s blood turned to ice, and he closed his eyes as Sylar jammed his fingers inside him, lining the entrance with his own blood. He thrust his fingers in hard, and Mohinder mewled, delighting in the rhythmic sensations of his brutal touch.

He could feel the sting, his own ass lined with his blood, stretched and torn beyond anything he’d ever felt before. Mohinder felt himself go hard, and he was ashamed. He began to hope as Sylar removed his fingers, wondering if the killer was having second thoughts.

Instead, Sylar suddenly replaced his fingers with his cock, and he shoved past Mohinder’s tight barrier, the slick musk and blood allowing him to glide inside. Mohinder breathed heavily, feeling his muscles automatically clenching around him. Sylar laughed again, all too amused with Mohinder’s response to him.

“Typical… you were always predictable, Suresh.”

“Why must you do this? Tell me…” He gritted out, and Sylar thrust inside him again. Mohinder moaned.

“We have something, Suresh… something that I don’t have with anyone else, not even those I steal my powers from,” he replied in a low voice. The arrogance was almost gone from his tone, and Mohinder wondered if Sylar was becoming serious. “You’re so common, Mohinder Suresh, and your father was too…”

“So you should just kill me like you did him,” Mohinder suggested. He’d hardly expected logic from a serial killer. How could he even fathom why this monster wanted to fuck him?

“The whole time I was playing you… pretending to be Zane, I knew by the way you went on about your research that you were dedicated, just like your father was. I thought you were stupid… how could you not know it was I and that Zane was dead?

“But then you tricked me, strapped me to a chair, and tortured me. And forget the speeches, you really had me.” Sylar’s voice was becoming angry. Suddenly, Mohinder felt his hair pulled back in Sylar’s grasp. Sylar bent down to his ear again, almost spitting with anger. “How is it that a common person can trick me? ME? You’re nothing compared to me. I’m special!”

“You’re psychotic,” Mohinder huffed, the pain of his scalp still tingling in Sylar’s clutches. Sylar moved inside him harshly, enough to cause Mohinder to wheeze in pain. Finally Mohinder spit out, “Just do it already. Be done with it.”

“You see… I just can’t do that. I have to take it slow. It doesn’t mean anything if I just get it over with fast and let you have all the fun.” Sylar thrust inside him again, fast and then retracting slow. He added lightly, “After all, isn’t that what making love is all about?”

“We are _not_ making love,” Mohinder groaned, his muscles taut and his ass aching. Sylar’s thrusts only continued to race faster.

It was torture, and Mohinder could feel his own cock burning at the tip, tightness building inside him. And Sylar’s dick was large and intrusive, sliding in and out and branding itself onto him – leaving his psyche with a definite mark. The man that had killed so many – that had killed his father – and that had become his own obsession – was inside him, utterly encompassing.

Sylar gripped the sides of Mohinder’s thighs and began moving faster. Mohinder cried, warring with himself again not to enjoy it and trying to remember that he was being forced against his will.

But this man… this prototype and key to the research that fulfilled his life, was taking him.

And Mohinder _hated_ him. He wanted him out, but he also wanted him in.

“Gods,” Mohinder cried. Sylar was faster now; the thrusts burning past the blood; caked with sweat and matter. Sylar grunted, possessive and harsh. He pulled Mohinder closer into him, impaling him as deep as he could. He wrapped an arm around Mohinder’s waist and trailed the other one down over his cock, pumping it and smearing his sex over the shaft as the doctor came. Mohinder shuddered around him as Sylar still thrust inside him, gnashing his teeth and growling as his own excitement built up for impending release.

“Fuck,” Sylar called out, pushing Mohinder flush against the wall again as he pulled out and released all over him. Sylar let out a chuckle before smearing Mohinder’s ass with his own spunk.

And then, there was a moment for them to recover. Sylar laughed lightly as Mohinder caught his breath, still rammed up against the wall with his thighs quivering against each other.

Mohinder felt utterly sick for what had happened, and most of all, for enjoying it. He tasted the bile coming up in his throat, and he coughed harshly. He was hoping that since this was over, Sylar would not take him anymore and finally kill him.

But when he felt the killer’s rough hands lightly caress his shoulder, his breath on the shell of his ear, he knew things were just getting started. Sylar thumbed through his solid flesh again, and Mohinder cried audibly as he felt him accosting his insides. He felt faint, and his breathing became heavier. His body was screaming from the pain and agony of such constant intrusion. He felt so exhausted that even adrenaline could barely keep him standing. He groaned as Sylar wrapped an arm around his shoulders, cupping his chest.

“You didn’t think we were done yet, did you Doc?” Sylar’s voice mocked in his ear. Mohinder exhaled in exasperation and glared at him from the corner of his eye.

“Haven’t taken what you wanted? Must you take _more_?” Mohinder breathed out harshly, spitting on the side of Sylar’s cheek.

The murderer merely chuckled, and somewhere in his grasp around Mohinder’s body, there was a sick sort of affection. He rubbed his cheek against Mohinder’s, smearing the doctor with his own saliva.

“Oh, haven’t you learned by now, Suresh? There’s always more to take.”

With one rough thrust, Sylar’s hand was inside of Mohinder’s chest, fingers wrapping around his heart. Mohinder screamed from the sheer agony, and then darkness finally overtook him.

\--

Mohinder Suresh woke up with a throbbing headache, and his aching body protesting his arousal from sleep.

Someone was jarring him lightly, and he heard a soft voice linger inside his ears.

“Doctor Suresh, wake up,” said the voice, and it was a light, juvenile tone that excited his senses. Mohinder started to arise, expecting to be in heaven or some place like it. The last thing he remembered was being tortured and fucked to death. He only hoped that from his last lifetime, he'd done well enough to be able to enjoy the next.

Blearily, he opened his eyes, expecting to see happier things. Instead, his eyes widened to the sight of Sylar’s face, looking down at him. Mohinder moved back, feeling the free use of his own limbs from the absence of Sylar’s power. Mohinder inched back from him, still hovering over him with a strange expression.

Was that… was that concern on the killer’s face? Mohinder glared at him. What was he playing at now?

“You… aren’t you done with me yet?” Mohinder seethed, throwing him a fierce glare.

Unexpectedly, Sylar put up his hands in defense. “Wait!” His voice was a lot lighter than before, devoid of any malice or chill. “It’s not what you think! I’m not Sylar!”

Mohinder eyed him skeptically. He had to admit something did seem off about him, and Sylar was not acting like himself. Still, Sylar had been good at acting and had fooled him before. Mohinder said nothing; instead, he puffed out his chest bravely and continued to lock his gaze with the man. Sylar looked at him dejectedly, obviously hoping for Mohinder to believe him.

Mohinder would play his game though and get to the bottom of this behavior. He was more than curious, but he was concerned with finding a way to escape.

“Alright, if you’re not Sylar, then, who are you?” Mohinder asked.

“I know you don’t believe me… but I’m Gabriel. Gabriel Gray.”

Mohinder blinked several times before saying anything. This was a strange game indeed. Sylar was adamant at leaving his former identity as the watchmaker behind, and now he was using it again? Something certainly was not right.

“You… you hate to be called Gabriel Gray. You abandoned the name…” Mohinder bit his lip and lashed at him, “I don’t believe you.”

“I know,” Gabriel said. He smiled weakly, which stunned Mohinder. He had never seen the man smile genuinely when it wasn’t for play or malice. “Maybe… maybe you’ll believe me when I say that when he… Sylar… killed that woman he not only took on her power of strength, but another power too.”

Mohinder was interested now. “She had another power?” Besides Peter, the doctor knew of no one else who had multiple abilities.

“Yes,” Gabriel answered simply. He seemed slightly more relaxed now that Mohinder was actually listening to him. “The woman… Niki Sanders, not only had super strength, but she had an alter ego.”

Mohinder contemplated his words for a moment, and then he eyed him with doubt. “You’re telling me Mrs. Sanders had two personalities?”

“Yes, one that was violent and the other that was caring and docile.”

Mohinder shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like an ‘ability’; it sounds like Dissociative Identity Disorder. Surely you can’t expect me to believe …”

“What would I gain from playing with you like this? Do you think Sylar would care to play such a trivial game with you? To fake a personality disorder just to mess with your head?”

“I don’t know. No, that doesn’t sound like you…him,” Mohinder groaned and then rubbed his head. “He’s the more calculating and ruthless type. Childish games aren’t part of his methods.”

“Exactly, so then why would I be telling you this now if it wasn’t true?”

Dr. Suresh didn’t answer him right away. He watched Gabriel’s expression for a moment, noticing its kindness and desperation, something wholly odd than what he was used to from the man’s supposed alter ego. He rubbed his chin and pursed his lips.

“If it were true, there’s one way that you can convince me.” Mohinder continued to meet his gaze as he stood up from the couch. Gabriel watched him back away, but he didn’t move, nor did he show signs of changing his disposition to keep Mohinder captive.

Gabriel shook his head. “What’s that?”

Mohinder looked at him hard, and firmly he replied, “You can give me my list back, and you can let me go.”

Suddenly, before answering him, Gabriel rushed over to him, grabbing Mohinder’s arms and then pleading with him. Gabriel looked submissive under Mohinder’s gaze, a behavior that only continued to boggle him.

“Please, I’ll let you take the list and go and do anything you want, but you have to help me!” Gabriel begged, latching onto Mohinder’s sleeves. Mohinder gaped, continuing to be stunned by Gabriel’s change of nature.

“How… how can I even help you?” the doctor stuttered, and he closed his jaw lightly while looking into Gabriel’s sepia eyes, full of fear, uncertainty and desperation.

“He’s going to come back and take over. I don’t want him to. I want to be out… I want to be the one in control!”

“Gabriel,” Mohinder said sighing. “There’s no hope for that. I don’t know the extent of Niki Sanders' powers, but what Sylar has done can never be rectified. He’s wanted for countless murders, not to mention the fact that his growing powers are starting to come unstable – as far as I can theorize.”

“Please…” Gabriel begged again. “You have to help me! Don’t tell me there’s no hope.” Gabriel broke his gaze away from Mohinder and let him go. He darted his eyes around the room, and then he looked down at the fragments of a broken mirror. To Mohinder’s surprise, Gabriel jumped back, and his face paled.

“No… He’s coming back.” Gabriel gave him one last pleading look, and then darted over to the kitchen, sidestepping the body with a grimace and then handing Mohinder the laptop containing the list. “Hurry… you don’t have much time.”

Mohinder’s blood ran cold, and he actually felt sympathy for Gabriel. As seconds went by, Mohinder began to believe the story about an alter ego, considering Gabriel was so wildly different from Sylar’s murderous persona. He’d fully believe him, though, once he was completely out that door with his life and the list intact. Gabriel stared at him, anxious for him to leave, biting his nails as Mohinder hesitated.

“You need to go now.” Gabriel’s eyes glowed with obvious sadness. He whispered, “So there really is no hope for me?”

Mohinder’s lip quivered, and he really didn’t know how to answer the man. He sighed. “I don’t know. I think, now that you’re here, there might be some. But you truly are his alter ego, the good side of Sylar he abandoned and buried so deep, you need to come to the surface and be strong.”

“I can’t do that. It’s not easy.” Mohinder watched him as he bit off another fingernail, and then began to work on another. He paced around, darting his eyes away from the mirror fragments before looking once again into Mohinder’s sympathetic face.

Mohinder started walking backwards to the door, continuing to watch him. Gabriel didn’t indicate an intention to stop him, just seemed anxious that Mohinder wasn’t leaving fast enough.

“Hurry…”

“Gabriel, if you can win over him…” Mohinder started, but Gabriel waved his hand. He was clearly giving up already.

“I don’t know if there’s any hope for salvation…”

Mohinder froze, eerily remembering those words during the time Sylar was pleading for his life. He quickened his pace toward the door. Gabriel looked up from the ground, and spoke to him one last time.

“Doctor,” he said, the tone of his voice becoming stronger. Mohinder began to wonder if Sylar was taking control again. If so, he had to move quickly if he was going to survive. Gabriel continued, “Sylar was right about one thing.”

“And what’s that?” Mohinder asked, a challenging tone lingering in his voice.

“There’s something between you two,” he answered, looking away. “He would have never done that with you if there wasn’t something there.” Mohinder noticed that Gabriel had come over to him again just as he was about to turn the knob on the door.

Gabriel was inches from him, and the doctor noticed he was watching him intently, a strange adoration beaming from his face. He whispered, “I cared about your father a lot, Suresh. From what I knew in him, I see in you.” Mohinder closed his eyes briefly as Gabriel’s fingers danced lightly over his jaw line. And at that moment, Mohinder felt his blood oddly warm to the thought that Sylar’s better half harbored such affection for him. He wondered if, even though such intentions were buried deep, Gabriel’s hidden desires were actually Sylar’s unconscious zeal to never finish killing him.

It certainly explained why Sylar would even want to touch him, to tease and play with him like they were some sort of lovers.

As time stilled, darkness began to flicker in Gabriel’s eyes, and he backed away from Mohinder slightly, not before placing a light kiss on his dry lips.

“You need to go,” he whispered, backing far away from him, allowing the doctor the space to open the door. With one last meaningful look back at Gabriel, Mohinder mouthed a goodbye before leaving hastily.

The urgency of the situation did not allow Mohinder the time to register Gabriel’s softer side, his heartfelt confession, or the soft goodbye kiss that lingered over Mohinder’s shaky lips.

Mohinder blocked out the wild scream that permeated the Sanders’ house before slamming his car door. He bolted out of the driveway, willing himself not to look back at the house. He stepped on the gas and continued to drive. If Sylar took over again, any sort of hesitation during the getaway could be detrimental. He was thankful to be alive, even if it was under circumstances that he had not foreseen.

 _It’s true then; I did meet the buried alter ego of Gabriel Gray – the human part of Sylar that had been denied for so long. Sylar probably thought Gabriel was as good as gone,_ he mused to himself. Biting his lips, he couldn’t help but remember the desperation in Gabriel’s eyes – such an alien expression upon Sylar’s face.

 _I wonder, Gabriel,_ Mohinder thought to himself. And oddly enough, he ached for the chance to talk to Gabriel again, wondering what it would be like to be his friend and to endure long car rides with him. Sadness knotted in his stomach, and he felt pity for the man.

 _For you, I wonder if such a thing as hope truly exists._

END


End file.
